


red and blue (and green and yellow too)

by corydalis



Series: KlanceWeek2k16 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 4k words of space family playing twister and collective groaning at keith and lance, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Twister - Freeform, YOU GET A POV AND YOU GET A POV AND EVERYONE HERE IS GETTING A POV, nothing explicit tho, some suggestive stuff bc lance and keith have trouble controlling their gay/bi, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corydalis/pseuds/corydalis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Holy <i>hell</i>, dude, what are your abs made out of, metal?”</p><p>“Is that a compliment or an insult?”</p><p>“It’s illegal is what it is!”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Hunk sighs. Twister and UST are never a good combination.</p><p>--<br/><i><b>DAY 1:</b> blue // red </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	red and blue (and green and yellow too)

**Author's Note:**

> **klance week:** day 1 is red/blue, guys! good luck!  
>  **everyone else:** *colour symbolism, writing the rivalry, deep and emotional stuff about their relationship, lions, and the previous paladins*  
>  **me:** ....................... twister.
> 
> EDIT: i now pretty firmly hc pidge as a trans girl, so i changed her pronouns

“What,” Pidge asks blankly, “are you doing?”

“Pidge!” Lance’s gaze snaps up, a wide grin on his face. There’s yellow paint in his eyebrow. “I’m doing something heroic.”

Pidge debates turning straight back around and leaving - there’s better things to do and Green’s new modifications aren’t going to implement themselves - but the sight of Lance sat cross-legged on the floor, covered in various paints and looking like he should be receiving some sort of medal for making such a mess is far too intriguing. Curiosity wins out.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really! Pidge, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in _space_.”

“You know, believe it or not Lance, I _did_ notice that.”

“Right! And space is cool, and Voltron is cool, and lasers and parades and freeing aliens is all super cool and everything, but what about when we’re not doing all of that stuff? What about _right now_ , when we’re not liberating planets or kicking Galra ass?!”

Pidge regrets sticking around. “What _about_ right now?”

“Pidge. Pidgeon. My main Pidgeot. _Pidge_.” And it’s infuriating, honestly, that Pidge is so short that Lance, sitting on the floor, is tall enough to easily wrap his arm around her waist companionably. “Space is _awesome_ , okay. Don’t get me wrong. But space is also,” he pauses dramatically, " _incredibly boring._ ”

Pidge... can’t dispute that.

Lance flails his arms wildly. “Like, what are we supposed to _do_ all day?!”

“Keith and Shiro _train_ in their free time.”

Lance releases Pidge’s waist and pats her arm gently. “Shiro is a wonder to humanity and I’m not sure Keith even knows what fun is. There’s no wifi out here- no _memes,_ Pidge!”

“I do miss memes.”

“And there’s no outside to play in, or movies from home to watch and I tried going into the ‘rec room’ - please note the amount of emphasis on those quotation marks - Coran showed us and it’s basically full of deathtraps! A ball tried to _eat_ me, Pidge! A _ball_. Is nothing sacred?! And all those Altean board games make no sense and I swear to god Allura just makes up rules to mess with me and- and there’s _nothing to do!_ ”

“You could try being productive,” Pidge mutters, but honestly, agrees. Space is boring and Allura is terrifying. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing.”

“I’m solving everyone’s problems,” Lance says sagely, gesturing to the large sheet of plastic in front of him, white except for a few round circles of colour. It clicks.

“Oh my god.”

Lance looks far too pleased with himself. “I’m awesome.”

“You’re  _making_ a Twister mat?”

“Isn’t it great?”

Pidge tries not to look vaguely interested by the idea. Lance’s ego is big enough. “Why Twister, specifically?”

Lance mock-gasps. “ _Why_ , Pidge? Twister is the epitome of team bonding! It’s about stamina and the spirit of competition and sharing laughs-”

“And you want an excuse to get close to Allura.”

“Hey!” Lance scowls, “I’ll have you know that the thought didn’t even cross my mind! ...Now that you mention it though-”

“ _Lance._ ”

“Kidding! Look, Pidgeon,” Lance bends down again, picking up his brush and returning to painting a red circle with surprising care. Vaguely, Pidge wonders where the hell he got the stuff for this. “In my house, every Thursday is Family Game Night, and every time it’s Claudia’s turn to pick the game, she picks Twister, because she’s _insane_ at it - and also because we’re not allowed to play Monopoly anymore. And lemme tell you, _nothing_ brings people together like embarrassing yourselves on the Twister mat. Of course, we got crazy competitive, and this one time Marco actually ended up punching Claudia in the face on his way down. She didn’t even flinch, just crouched there and took the fist. Lost a tooth, but hey, she still won!”

And _oh_ , Lance has got that look again, the homesick one he gets whenever he talks about his family. And, yeah, she makes it out like Lance is annoying, and sometimes a bit of an ass, but Pidge has a soft spot for him that she will deny to her goddamn grave. She's _missed_ having a brother, okay? It couldn’t hurt to indulge him, just this once.

“That,” Pidge adjusts her glasses, a smile twitching at her lips. “actually sounds pretty fun, Lance.”

If Lance had dog ears, they would shoot straight up. “Awesome! So you’re on board? Can you help me make the spinner? Hunk’s gone to get more paint, but he promised he’d help out with that too! Or, actually, can you go ask Shiro if he’ll play? You’re his favourite, he’ll listen to you, and he’s looked kind of down lately, so it’ll probably do him some good, you know?”

Pidge can almost _hear_ the sound of an imaginary tail thumping against the floor. She sighs fondly, turning back to the door. “Sure, Lance.”

“You’re amazing and I adore you!” he calls after her. Pidge rolls her eyes. She's smiling, though.

* * *

 

“Right foot to blue!” Shiro calls out.

There’s a shuffle, followed by some very choice curses in Spanish, and then suddenly everyone hits the mat with a groan. Except for Allura, who has somehow managed to remain upright despite Pidge, who had previously been hovering above her awkwardly, landing with a squawk on her back, sliding sideways and onto the floor. Damn Altean super strength.

“Does this mean I win?” she asks excitedly. Hunk gives her a thumbs up from the floor. Allura grins. “This is a very satisfying game, Lance.”

“Told you,” Lance mumbles into Hunk’s leg, not quite ready to stand up just yet. “Team bonding. Go Voltron. Yay.”

“Next game.” Shiro passes the spinner to Coran and stretches. “Who’s playing?”

“I’m out for this one,” Pidge says immediately. “I can only handle so much exposure to Lance’s ass at a time.”

Lance is an adult, so he doesn’t respond to that, but he does subtly trip Pidge when she goes to stand. He’s also about to cop out - mainly because he wants a front row seat for the Allura/Shiro Twister face off that’s about to happen - when Keith, who sat out the first game due to never having played before (Lance was appropriately horrified on his behalf), pipes up.

“I’ll play.”

And of _course_ , Lance has to play now too. “Yeah, I can keep going!”

Keith pushes away from the door and approaches, dropping his jacket as he goes. Which, Lance thinks, is actually a pretty good idea, because it’s better than thinking ‘holy shit, it should be illegal to wear shirts that tight’.

Lance throws his jacket into the corner and takes his place on the mat.

* * *

 

“Right hand, blue!”

Shiro groans, twisting his body around until he can reach the blue circle, which ends up putting him about two centimetres away from Allura’s elbow.

She ducks her head underneath her arm to look at him properly, smiling. “Hello!”

She’s not even sweating. Granted, neither is Shiro, but he wonders if supporting most of his weight on his Galran arm is technically cheating. He then decides that he doesn’t care; it’s about time the damn thing had a use that doesn’t involve maiming and dismemberment. He smiles back at her hesitantly. “Uh, hey, Princess. You holding up okay?”

Behind him, he hears Lance squawk, and prays for patience.

“Get your face out of my chest!”

“Get your chest out of my face!”

“I’m quite fine, Shiro,” Allura says cheerfully, wisely ignoring the two paladins at her feet.

“This is a rather ingenious game; I’m surprised that we don’t have any sort of similar Altean equivalent,” Coran muses, peeking over Hunk’s shoulder at the spinner. “Perhaps we should have you all do this before your daily training, to stretch your muscles!”

“Look, if you would just _move your head_ -”

“My head can go wherever the hell it wants! It’s my head!

“Left foot, green!” Hunk calls out, barely stifling a snort.

“ _H_ _unk_ ,” Lance whines, sounding agonized. Shiro doesn’t even want to know what’s going on behind him. He shuffles again to obey the order. His line of sight is now confined to Allura’s shoulder blades, and someone’s knee is digging into his back.

“Right hand to red!”

Before Shiro can even follow the order, there’s a scuffle behind him, followed by a yelp, a groan, a voice crack from Lance as he yells, “I win!”, then a thump and a muttered, “Asshole,”

“Cheater!”

“You cheated first!”

“Lance and Keith are out!” Pidge cackles.

Allura’s shoulders look delighted. “It appears that it’s just the two of us now, Shiro!”

“Left hand, yellow!”

Shiro watches Allura twist away from him and flip gracefully into a crab position, looks helplessly at the yellow circle he can spot through his legs, and for the first time in his life he debates giving up. This mat is so much more _spacious_ than the average one.

“Come on, Shiro! Represent the human race!” Pidge calls out.

Right. Leader of Voltron, most powerful weapon in the universe and all that. He can do this.

He hits his nose on the way down.

* * *

 

Keith considers himself to be pretty flexible, but the position Lance is in is just unfair.

His arm is between Keith’s legs - a fact Keith is trying his damnedest to ignore, because _those_ thoughts about Lance are firmly restricted to his room - his leg is somewhere far behind Keith’s head, and he’s so stupidly _close_ , and normally Keith might even let himself enjoy the moment (because he can admit how he feels about Lance to himself, at this point), if it wasn’t for the front row seat he has to Lance making gooey eyes at Allura.

Allura, who Lance is currently half underneath. She doesn’t appear fond of this arrangement.

“ _Hell-o_ there, Princess,” Lance waggles his eyebrows.

Keith doesn’t actually know whether or not it's himself or Allura who trips him, but a second later Lance hits Keith’s stomach face first, and they’re both out.

* * *

 

Allura, who felt bad after realising that she _isn’t_ supposed to be using her morphing abilities to help her stretch, (and yet somehow  _still_ won the round even after she’d stopped) sits the fourth game out, much to everyone’s relief.

“Right foot, yellow!”

Hunk groans, obliging. “I’m like, ninety-eight percent sure that my body was _never_ meant to bend this way. This is inhuman. Inalien. Save me.”

Keith, whose stomach is currently underneath Hunk’s leg, makes a warning noise in the back of his throat. “Please don’t fall.”

“I’m trying!”

Lance shifts, his knee knocking against Hunk’s elbow. “No Hunk, it’s okay. You can fall. You don’t have to torture yourself like this anymore, just _fall_. And if Keith gets taken down with you, well that’s a price I’m willing to pay for your comfort, buddy.”

“If _anyone_ falls, I’m going to rig the castle alarms to play Rick Astley full blast every morning at what constitutes as six am,” Pidge growls from beneath Keith’s arm.

Lance scoffs. “That’s not a threat to me, Pidge.”

“Where the heck could you even download Rick Astley in space?” Hunk wonders.

“Who the hell is Rick Astley?”

“ _Keith_. Hunk, now you _have_ to fall on him!”

“Nobody is falling!” Shiro snaps, somewhere behind Hunk’s head. “Come on team, we can do this!”

There’s a collective groan.

“Left foot to blue!” Coran says cheerfully. Is he enjoying this? He sounds like he’s enjoying this. Hunk _trusted_ him; they’re food buddies! Food buddies do not sound that happy when said food buddy is sentenced to death via memes at six am. Maybe he’s still mad about the comment Hunk made about the food goo earlier.

Keith immediately twists so that he’s no longer in danger of falling when Hunk does, even though his new position above Lance’s kneecaps appears to be far more impractical. This is proven right, when Lance, whilst making his move, accidentally-on-purpose jabs his knee into Keith’s stomach. Keith doesn’t flinch. Lance does.

“Holy _hell,_ dude, what are your abs made out of, metal?”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“It’s illegal is what it is!”

“What?”

Hunk sighs. Twister and UST are never a good combination.

Three spins later, Shiro, funnily enough, is the first to fall. Hunk is just chilling and minding his own business when suddenly _WHAM_ , Shiro’s metal arm skids on the plastic of the mat - and Hunk thinks it’s only fair that it’s what takes him down, considering he’s pretty sure their leader has been using it to cheat the whole game - and they both get sent to the floor.

“Hey, we outlasted Shiro!” Lance says giddily, though it’s slightly muffled by Pidge’s hair. Keith grunts in approval.

“Sorry.” Shiro drags himself away from the mat with a wince.

“It’s cool. I mean, I technically didn’t fall, so I still have my dignity, at least.” Hunk waves him off, flopping down next to Allura, who offers him a berry. He decides that he loves her.

“Left leg, green!”

“Pidge.”

“No, Lance.”

“ _Pidge_.”

“Don’t you dare _._ ”

“There’s nowhere else I can go!”

“I don’t care!”

“I’m so sorry.” Lance says it like a final goodbye, and then sticks his leg over to green, smacking into Pidge and sending her sprawling to the mat. She whacks Keith’s arm on the way down, who wobbles but remains upright.

“Fucking hell,” Pidge swears.

“Language,” Shiro calls out half-heartedly.

“Fucking heck.”

“You’re my favourite and I love you!” Lance cries apologetically from the space between Keith’s arms. Hunk makes sure to make a wounded noise, and Lance gaze swivels to him immediately, panicked. “Except for Hunk! But that’s like, a given- come on man.”

A second later, Pidge plops into the space between Hunk and Coran. Hunk offers her a berry.

“Down to you and me then, huh?” Lance sounds far too smug; one of these days someone is actually going to kill him when Hunk’s back is turned.

“Not for long,” Keith grits out.

“Aw, come on Keith, you’re selling yourself short! I’m sure you can last for at least two more spins before I kick your ass.”

“I was talking about you!”

Pidge taps Coran’s shoulder, gesturing to the spinner. “May I?”

“Oh, certainly!”

“Oh, fuck,” Lance whispers.

Pidge spins the wheel and then, without looking down at it once, calls, “Right hand, blue!”

Hunk looks down at the wheel, which clearly says ‘right leg to red’, and then at the mat, where Lance is valiantly attempting to find a circle within reach that won’t put his head in between Keith’s legs. He decides not to comment.

“Also, sweet idea I just had,” Pidge beams, the light flashing off her glasses. “How about you guys take turns moving now? Just to make it more interesting.”

Lance, clearly eager at the idea of escaping the current spin, brightens. “Excellent idea!”

“Great! This one can be your turn, Lance.”

“Not so excellent idea.”

“What, can’t handle it?” Keith bends his head back to send an upside-down grin in Lance’s direction.

Lance immediately - _predictably_ \- scoffs (Hunk does not, however, miss the flush of colour on his cheeks), and then stubbornly shoves himself forward to put a hand on blue. Keith, who apparently had not thought very far ahead in his goading and where it would put Lance, makes an ugly choking noise. Which is great, actually - if a little awkward to watch. Maybe tonight they’ll finally get somewhere. Hunk would have liked to have made them some sort of romantic dinner or something first, but it's been months, and this is exhausting. He kind of just wants them to get on with it.

“You’re doing this on purpose, right?” he mumbles to Pidge.

“Yup.”

“Just making sure. Berry?”

* * *

 

This is unfair. This is horrendously, disgustingly unfair, and Pidge is absolutely _diabolical_.

“Left leg, in the air!”

“What the _hell_ , Pidge?! That’s not a colour!”

“I’m just following what the wheel’s telling me, Lance,” Pidge replies, and Lance can’t see her face but he _knows_ bullshit when he hears it.

“Well I _made_ the wheel, and I know for a fact that there’s nothing about air on there!”

“Nope, says right here; air.”

“She's right, man. Gotta do it.” Hunk, _the traitor_ , pipes up.

“ _Urgh_.” Lance, currently on all fours, reluctantly pushes himself onto all-threes instead, forcing him to straighten his limbs to retain his balance and pushing him nearly flush up against Keith, who is stretched out over the top of him. He tries desperately not to notice this.

He feels horrifically betrayed. He has spent _many_ a night confiding in Pidge - his dear, dear friend - his thoughts about the chest he is currently pressed against (and good god, what a chest it is), because he _trusted_ her with his deepest, darkest secrets, and now here she is, strategically moving Lance and Keith around like chess pieces for her own sick amusement, just to punish him. The _nerve._

“Get your elbow out of my collarbone, Lance,” Keith complains, and the wash of his breath over Lance’s neck does not do _anything_ to Lance, no sir. In an attempt to cover this reaction that he does not have, Lance purposefully jabs his - as Pidge refers to them - ‘pointy little deathtraps’ upwards, and is rewarded (in so many ways) by a ragged huff from Keith.

“Keith, right leg red!” Pidge sounds absolutely wicked. Lance wonders if she's even bothering to spin the wheel anymore.

“Shit,” Keith mutters, and Lance might actually die because a moment later Keith shifts, pauses, shifts again, swings his right leg completely over Lance, and _yup_ , now he’s straddling him. This is awful, Twister never got this horrendously sexual at his house.

“Oh my.” Allura sounds vaguely flustered. _Me too, Princess._

“ _Right_ ,” Shiro says. “Princess, Coran, why don’t you show me that… that thing you were telling me about?”

No no no, Shiro can’t _leave_ , he’s the only thing holding Pidge back from completely ruining Lance’s life, he can’t abandon him like this! What happened to being the responsible adult?!

Keith appears to be thinking the same thing; he tenses, his tiny huffs of breath disappearing from Lance’s neck as his head snaps upwards. “ _Shiro-_ ” he starts, panicked.

“Oh, you mean the navigational charts?” Coran, at least, doesn’t sound like he’s twigged. Or maybe he has and he’s just completely unperturbed. “If you want!”

“Yes, yes certainly!” Allura says quickly.

“Stay safe, guys,” Shiro says.

Lance makes some sort of muted wailing noise that even he himself can’t describe. He strains to hear the door closing over Pidge and Hunk’s sniggering.

“Pidge,” he hisses. “I know you’re doing this on purpose!”

“Me?” Pidge asks innocently. “Doing _what_ on purpose, Lance?”

“Putting us in-” Lance shuts his mouth quickly, because he is not about to _say_ it. There’s still the off-chance that Keith is dense enough to have not noticed anything weird. The guy doesn't know what a rick roll is; anything’s possible. Maybe. Probably not. _Fuck._

“Look, Lance, just because you pissed off the Twister gods-”

“ _You’re_ the Twister god!”

“Yeah, and you pissed me off.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith mutters, and Lance has to be projecting at this point because there’s no way Keith sounds the way Lance thinks he sounds. “Are you gonna let Pidge spin or are you gonna forfeit?”

“ _Urgh._ ”

This couldn’t get any worse.

Six spins later, it’s worse.

They’ve swapped places now, a fact Lance can’t even be thankful for because now they’re facing each other; Keith in some sort of backwards crab position and Lance awkwardly hovering over him, attempting to put as much space as possible between their bodies without unbalancing himself.

How long have they been playing? It feels like hours, and it must have been a while if Keith - who spends every waking hour of the day in the training room - is huffing quietly, red and straining from exertion, a bead of sweat rolling down his collar- _for god’s sake, Lance, control yourself._

“Lance, right hand green!”

Lance knew he’d regret getting Pidge out, but he’d assumed it would be later, in the form of an electric shock whenever he tried to open his door, not _this._ This is just awful and torturous and vaguely uncomfortable because there’s two other people watching this train wreck.

God, if Keith would just fall already, that would be great.

“Lance!”

With a groan, Lance reaches for the blue circle, which _just so happens_ to be right next to Keith’s head and forces him to lower his body slightly. His thigh brushes Keith’s. Lance wants to die.

He desperately averts his eyes - _think about abuelita’s mole think about abuelita’s mole_ \- unlike Keith, whose eyes Lance can feel burning holes into his skull.

“Quit it,” he hisses.

Keith scowls. “Quit what?”

“Staring at me! You’re- you’re throwing me off!”

Keith pauses, and then without any warning pushes himself right up into Lance’s personal space - which is _not helpful, at all_ \- his gaze confused but defiant (and… maybe a little bit hopeful? No. Dumb idea.). "How?”

“Um.” Lance will deny that voice crack to his grave.

“Keith, left foot to blue!” Pidge cuts in.

And the only place for Keith’s leg to go is slightly underneath him, which means pushing his body even further up, which means his hips are now definitely pressing against Lance’s, and Lance _definitely_ can’t take this any more.

“What the hell, Pidge!?” he screeches. “It’s like you’re directing a porno!”

A whole bunch of things happen then; there’s a clatter as what Lance assumes is the spinner hits the floor, a high-pitched squeak from Pidge, a squawking noise from Hunk, and beneath him Keith appears to choke on his own spit.

“ _Lance!"_  Pidge sounds stricken, and Lance almost feels bad. Almost.

“Oh my god.” He does feel bad about the possibility of scarring Hunk for life, however. “Oh my _god_.”

Keith is still spluttering, but Lance is currently trying to pretend he doesn’t exist.

“That’s not- That is _not_ what I was doing!”

“That’s kind of what we were doing,” Hunk whispers, horrified. “Oh my god, how can I face my mothers after this? I feel _unclean_. Pidge, you’re a minor, how could you?!”

“No no no no,” Pidge moans. “I was not trying to- I was just trying to break their _stupid deadlock!_  Oh my _god_ , Lance, why did you have to make it weird!?”

“You made it weird first!”

Pidge makes a disgusted noise, standing up. “ _Right_ , fine! I’m finished. I’ve done my part. You guys can resolve your romantic and sexual tension from here, I’m _out_.”

She stomps past him, and then Lance feels the weight of the Twister spinner slamming down on his back. He yelps, crashing to the ground and straight on top of Keith.

“Don’t do anything weird on the mat, and if you do, burn it. In fact, burn it anyway, I can’t ever look at that thing again.” Pidge heads towards the door without a glance back, Hunk following behind with an expression like he’s just swallowed a lemon. “I need a _bath._ Or three.”

And then the door swishes closed.

Lance groans, pushing himself up onto his hands again and looking down at Keith, who has since stopped choking and instead looks about the same way Lance feels. He should probably move, he should definitely move, but-

“D-deadlock?” he asks in a small voice. His face is _burning._

“Romantic and sexual tension?” Keith counters almost accusingly.

“Uh,” Lance says intelligently.

There’s a tense, nervous moment of silence. Lance swallows. Keith looks like he’s barely breathing.

“So,” he starts, attempting to keep his voice light. “You-”

“Yeah.”

Lance splutters. “You didn’t let me finish!”

“I could kind of guess.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I can read the room, Lance.”

“You? Read the room? That’s-”

Except Lance doesn’t get to finish that sentence, or even that thought, because the next moment he’s flipped onto his back and Keith is kissing him.

It is not, objectively, a very good kiss. Keith has clearly never kissed anyone before in his life, but Lance has long since passed the point where he tried to convince himself his interest in Keith is purely physical, so considering it’s Keith and it’s such a _Keith_ kind of kiss - impulsive and fiery and messy and not a damn thing held back - it feels pretty damn perfect, in Lance’s opinion.

There’s also a tiny little thrill at the idea of probably being the first person in the whole universe who has gotten to kiss Keith Park (and if Lance has his way, hopefully the last), as he fists his hands in Keith’s shirt and tilts his head, adjusting the angle to something smoother. The tension drains out of Keith’s shoulders.

Eventually, they have to stop, because Lance is grinning too much and it’s hard to kiss someone when you’re smiling.

“You _like_ me,” he says smugly.

“You don’t say?” Keith raises a sarcastic eyebrow, but he’s smiling too, so _hah._

“And I like you.”

“I hope so.”

“Even though you’re the worst.” Lance grins.

“Shut up, _you’re_ the worst.”

“So if you like me, that means you automatically have _the worst_ taste!” he points out gleefully.

“But you just said-”

“Nope! You played yourself! No takeba-mmph!”

* * *

 

“Oh my god. They’re sickening.” Pidge groans, finally turning away from the window. “That is disgusting. I would have rather they’d made out, honestly.”

“Hush,” Hunk says, looking tearful. “I’m going to cater the wedding.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

A month later, Keith looks down at the note in his hands calling him to Lance’s room, mentally prepares himself, and then knocks.

“Come in!” Lance calls in what he probably believes is a sultry voice.

Keith rolls his eyes, opens the door, and promptly forgets how to breathe.

Lance, sprawled out across the bed like a model and, Keith assumes, completely naked underneath the Twister mat he is using as a blanket, waggles his eyebrows.

“Right hand on blue.”

“What the fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> that last scene is entirely hannah's fault, blame her i am i n n o c e n t
> 
> come talk to me about klance on [tumblr](http://buckettkun.tumblr.com/)


End file.
